Hell
by Faux Pax
Summary: "Karma" tie in. Everyone always says that high school is hell. As true as that may be, they really have no idea what they're talking about unless they have skipped as many grades as I have.
1. Hell

A/N: alright guys this is a tie in to my other one-shot fic "Karma," and will actually be a two-shot.

Disclaimer: is this really necessary?

Summary: Everyone always says that high school is hell. As true as that may be, they really have no idea what they're talking about unless they have skipped as many grades as I have.

* * *

><p><span>Hell<span>

Everyone always says that high school is hell. As true as that may be, they really have no idea what they're talking about unless they have skipped as many grades as I have.

It wasn't like I tried to outsmart everyone—I just did what I always did. But I guess when I had been building circuit boards and engines with my dad since before I really even understood what they were, what I always did just happened to be a little too much. Even for that preppy privet school my parents had sent me to—the kind that tries to get kids to read and understand Byron by third grade and is usually full of kids with more money than manners.

The headmaster practically had my parents on speed dial and it wasn't because of the same reasons as the other boys—at least not completely. I'd get into just as much trouble as the delinquents, but most of the time it was just because I already knew how to do the things the teacher was trying to teach us and so I found a way to entertain myself. Was it my really my fault if that often ended in some sort of fire and/or explosion? Of course not. Boys will be boys, after all.

It didn't take the teachers and my parents long to come up with a solution: bump me up a grade or two. The work would keep me challenged and out of trouble. That worked… for a while. At least until I started to get bored again. And thus the cycle would repeat until finally I was stuck as a twelve year old senior in high school; even then many of my classes were correspondence courses with various universities.

When I was little I thought it was cool, getting to hang out with all the big kids and they thought it was cool too. But it took me a while to figure out why. It's easy to say now, but how do you understand as a nine-year old sixth grader that the only reason your 'fiends' were your friends was because there daddy was a superhero?

It wasn't an easy lesion to learn—trust me.

Unlike most schools that rich kids like me got sent to, Aquinas Academy was not a boarding school. So after my first few days of sixth grade I thought it was only fitting to invite my new friends to come home after school with me. After all isn't that what normal big kids did?

I thought we could play video games or maybe watch a movie in the home theater but they had other plains. They played along well enough at first, but maybe they were just waiting for their window of opportunity to open. Or maybe it was the overload of excitement when the window did open that made them do what they did—nah, the truth was that my ever trusting young mind had failed to see the most obvious fact about my new friends: they were the class bullies that had only been saved from expulsion from several generous donations to the school by their families.

American education at its finest.

Dad was watching us while my mom was at the office doing important CEO things. He showed us his car collection and even some of the more high-tech gadgets he had been working on (nothing Ironman related, of course—that was all top secret).

I had already seen all this and was completely board but my friends were having fun so I tried really hard not to complain or fidget too much.

The boys politely asked if they could see the Suit. I don't understand why Dad didn't see what they were up to—I had an excuse, I was nine—their voices had the same tone, like honey dripping from fangs, that Astrid used when she was trying to manipulate a grown up into giving her something she wanted.

Before Dad could even tell them 'no' JARVIS interrupted him.

"Sir, Nick Fury is on the line. It appears to be of the utmost importance."

And with that Dad shooed us out of his workshop while he took the call. The boys stood outside the glass door trying to hear what they were saying. They couldn't—the door had long ago been sound proofed. Dad gave them a stern look from behind the monitor and they knew it was time to leave.

We went back to playing video games but it didn't take Dad long to interrupt us. The moment they saw him in the door way they paused the game and gave him their full attention.

"Listen Kiddo, something's come up. You'll be alright with the usual drill?" He asked and I nodded. I was too young to be by left by myself so whenever he had Ironman stuff to do JARVIS and Happy would watch me. JARVIS could have done it alone but apparently the law said an actual person had to do the kid sitting—I refused even then to think of it as baby sitting—and I think my mom agreed.

"Mr. Stark?" the quietest (and, as I would latter learn, the most vicious) of the boys asked, "if it's for a mission, do you… could… do you think it would be oaky if we maybe watched you suit up?" he put just enough stutter and hesitation into the question to pull the heart strings of even the most hard assed of grownups. It really wasn't necessary—dad probably would have said yes even if he had straight up asked—but he didn't know that.

Dad thought about it for a moment then shrugged. "What the hell. But you'll have to stay on the other side of the glass. I don't want you in my workshop while I'm gone."

All the boys nodded in unison looking not unlike a collection of babble head dolls.

They watched in wonder as JARVIS created a visual catalogue of all his suits and, when dad had picked the most appropriate version for whatever mission he was going on, the rest of them despaired back into cyberspace.

"He has all those suits?" one of the boys asked in wonder.

"Un-huh. There's one for space, one for when he has to be under water, one for when he has to be around a lot of radiation, there's one for when he has to be in a lot of cold…" I said as I ticked them off on my fingers.

Dad gave us a theatric little salute as he stepped on the black square that marked where the suits were really held. The boys watched as my dad turned into Iron Man and took off, flying right out of the skylight that he had installed for a quick exit.

Before the glow from dad's repulsors had even disappeared from eye sight, the leader of the boys walked over to the control panel and tried to put in random numbers in the hope of getting in. after a couple tries he hit the panel with the side of his fist.

They wanted to get into dad's lab and maybe even try on one of his spare suites. They were convinced that if my dad just saw how cool they were in those suits he would beg them to join the Avengers. Idiots.

First off, the suits wouldn't have fit—there was at least a foot of height difference between Dad and the tallest of these clowns. Second, those suits are a bitch to get used to. They would have accidentally killed each other before they got ahold of the weapons systems. And thirdly, the Avengers have much better standards (most of the time). They don't let kids join. The only time kids were EVER involved in a mission was if it was a kidnapping retrieval or something of the like.

Even Franklin Richards wasn't allowed to fight at our age (we were less than a year apart) and he was an Omega level mutant. If you don't know, that means he's stronger than the Professor and on the same level as The Phoenix. Yeah. That strong.

Dad's workshop has one of the most sophisticated security systems known to man and beyond (I'm pretty sure he somehow managed to convince Loki to apply some magic locks or something to it) so it's no surprise that after more than a few tries at imputing random numbers, they didn't get in.

They turned to me, convinced I could get them in, after all, if they knew where their parents kept the keys to the liquor cabinet then there was no way I could not know how to get into something so much cooler.

I didn't know the password but I could probably have hacked into it. Hell, now it wouldn't surprise me if dad had encoded my biometrics into the locks just in case. He knew I wouldn't go in there without reason. I had my own lab (which at the time wasn't as stocked with possible explosives as dad's was) and I was content with that, if I ever needed anything more I could just ask.

I don't know why they did it—they were defiantly old enough to know better and yet that didn't stop the kick from hitting me in the ribs. Up until that point I hadn't had much fighting experience (mom thought it would be best to let the whole school thing settle a bit before I started any extracurricular activities like karate) so I went down like a ton of bricks. Oaky, a tiny ton of bricks but the idea's the same.

I tried not to scream and sound like a baby but it _hurt _and the more that showed, the harder they kicked. Each time a foot came in contact with my flesh they would laugh. They had no reason not to—they thought there was no one here to hear them. No one here to stop them.

In my head I kept screaming—praying—someone would show up and help. Actually, I was only mentally crying for one person and it wasn't my mom or dad or Happy. It was Astrid. She had always been there for me.

I knew who it was that came to my rescue the minute the beating stopped. No one else could have stopped them without a word but Astrid.

She looked so angry but all I saw was my pride being more wounded than my body. I shouldn't have to be saved by a _girl, _even if it was Astrid. Unfortunately I was a nine year old little prick who didn't know when to shut up and accept the gift fate had given me.

The older kids were frozen where they stood, but I knew they could see everything. They saw her save me, and if I went running to her it would just get worse. I couldn't have that. I couldn't let the big boys think I was just a little baby.

"I don't need help from a _girl," _I hissed through what I would latter learn to be at least two cracked ribs as I struggled to sit up against the wall.

Her head turned away from them and I could see the pain in her eyes—and Astrid normally had an amazing poker face. She was just as hurt by my words as she was furious at their actions. That hurt me more than those boys ever could but I said nothing (nine year old prick, remember?).

"I guess you don't," she whispered sadly before puffing out. A part of me wanted to scream and beg her to come back but I knew she was gone. Screaming to nothing wouldn't help me now.

As soon she was gone the spell on the boys lifted. They were wide eyed and confused over what had happened but it didn't take them long to come up with an expiation that, while close to the truth, was completely wrong.

"He's friends with a mutie," the leader spat in disgust. No boys, she has always been so much more.

Even though it had been years since Hank McCoy was elected to the presidential cabinet and a whole bunch of laws were passed to hinder discrimination and racism (or was it speciesism? I'm still not sure) there was still a lot of deep seated biased.

And apparently I had chosen the most prejudiced of my classmates to be my new 'friends.'

The kicks resumed and I instinctually curled up into a ball to protect my already damaged ribs. In that moment I learned a very important lesion: don't refuse help if you need it just to save face—it doesn't help in the end.

"Hey!" a deep baritone called from down the hall and my little bleeding heart lifted at the sound.

See what the boys had failed to realize is that dad hadn't left us alone. Come on, do you really think he's that irresponsible—never mind, don't answer that. I had known Happy was there to watch us, but I didn't think to tell them that; it had just seemed so natural an occurrence that it went without saying. When all this was going on he was just in another part of the house.

If I hadn't been in so much pain I would have enjoyed watching Happy pulling them off me with a little more force than necessary, but I could barely think straight. All I could think about was how the kids at school were going to make fun of me even more when they found out that a grownup had to save me like I was a little kid trying to pet the neighbors pit bull.

"Oh my god, are you alright?" he asked when he could finally see the damage. I could feel the bruises and at least one black eye forming but I don't think he noticed the ribs yet. I nodded. I hated the attention—it would just make things worse latter.

While Happy was distracted with me the boys saw an opportunity and took it. They quietly tried backing out of the room—I guess they thought if they could somehow get home their parents wouldn't hear about it.

They didn't get far. As soon as it became clear what they were trying to do all the doors slid shut with a defining finality that later I would compare to the fall of a guillotine blade.

"I do not believe it is wise for you to leave the premises until this matter has been sorted out."

"You know, it's pretty bad when even the AI can tell you're an asshat," Astrid said staring at the boys with crossed arms and a disgusted look on her face. They backed away but there was no were to go.

Seeing her standing there I briefly wondered if she had been the one to go get Happy but I didn't have much time to think on it before he all but confirmed it.

"Astrid, can you get him to his room and heal him? Let me take care of the asshats," Happy said. Astrid narrowed her eyes and I could tell she almost said no—that she would rather take care of my tormentors—but then she saw just how much trouble I was having breathing. Without a word she walked over to me and grabbed me gently by the shoulders.

I screamed as we teleported to my room. Normally I didn't mind but the confining pressure associated with traveling through the third dimension was hell on my ribs.

She sat me down on my bed so that my back rested against the headboard and my legs were stretched out on the bed. Without warning she summoned a small intricate dagger and slowly stuck it under my shirt. The fabric split so easily it was like she was running scissors through wrapping paper.

My eyes went wide and, if I had had the strength or room, I would have backed away from her. What the hell was she doing? We were too old to play pretend doctor and too young to really play doctor.

"We're not playing doctor; I'm playing nurse. There's a difference," She said and smiled, "JARVIS, can you take photos of his wounds in case Uncle Tony and Aunt Pepper want to take legal action against those stupid boys."

I could tell by her tone of voice that she thought it would be unnecessary—that she had something better in mind.

"Astrid leave them alone. For me. They're just stupid boys," I said as she began to heal the bruises. Simultaneous feelings of heat and cold radiated from her touch like one of those Icy-hot patches athletes used for sore muscles. I could feel the pain melting away and I knew it showed on my face.

She let out a hiss when she came to the broken ribs but said nothing. Instead I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was revising whatever plain she had in mind for them.

I should have let her tear into them but I guess some small part of me still wanted to fit in—even if that meant being their friend. Pathetic, right? But keep in mind that I was just nine at the time. I needed them to like me if I ever wanted to fit in with the big kids.

Astrid's eyes softened.

"I know that. If they weren't so stupid, they would have seen that being your friend is worth a million times more than getting to see your dad's stupid suit," she said healing my face last so I was forced to look her in the eyes as she said it.

I said nothing. I didn't know what _to _say; in some ways it was so like Astrid to say exactly what I needed her to but at the same time it was so unlike her to just let a trespass like that go. Luckily she put me out of my misery after only a few seconds of silence.

"Why do you want to fit in so badly?" she said looking out the glass wall that gave a prefect view of the moonlit ocean. For once there was not even the slightest judgment in her voice, just curiosity.

I took me a minute to find the words but she didn't rush me; she just patiently stared off over the water while I collected my thoughts.

"I don't fit in anywhere," I whispered, "all the Avenger kids—you, Franklin, May—all have powers but I don't. I'm always the one who has to be saved and who can't go and say 'look what I just learned to do.' But around everyone else I'm just the freaky smart kid. I don't belong anywhere. I'm a freak no matter where I am."

I expected her to laugh at me or at least completely blow me off but surprisingly she didn't.

"We're all freaks sometimes," she muttered dropping all glamour. Her dark blue skin blended in perfectly with the darkness, her blood red eyes the only feature clearly visible in the night.

"What do you mean?"

"There are a lot of other kids in Asgard but most don't play with me. they don't call me names—but they don't play with me" her voice wasn't sad but it wasn't exactly neutral either.

"Why not? You're a princess!" she looked at me oddly and at the time I didn't understand why. But I got it latter. I had always wanted friends who cared for me for me, not because I was my father's son. This was the same thing. Wasn't she allowed to want the same?

"I'm more than that: I'm a Jotun."

"What?"

"Frost giant," she clarified. I was no stranger to her blue side (there really was no way to be ignorant of it—when she was little she liked to strip off her glamor like most kids that age insisted on stripping off their cloths) but I hadn't heard the word for it until then.

"Oh… So what? Why would that matter?" I didn't get it. So what she was blue and a little spiky sometimes, but she was still Astrid.

"I asked my grandmother the same question a couple years ago and she explained it to me. To the kids on Asgard, the Jotun are like the boogie man—they are the monsters under the bed. In their bed time stories it is the Jotun the heroes slay, not dragons." Her voice was an odd mix of acceptance and sadness that broke my heart. I knew she didn't care about what others thought of her but she was not as unaffected as she wanted others to believe.

"But they know you, you're not like that."

"But the prejudice is still there," she said resting her head on my shoulder. "Asgardians are a long lived race; it takes will takes longer for them to change."

"So what did you do to get the kids to play with you?" I asked honestly curious. Only a small whisper in the back of my mind thought of the fact that if it could work for her then maybe it could work for me. But most of my thoughts were on her—always on her.

"I started to walk around without my glamor on," she muttered snuggling her face deeper into my chest. I could tell she was tired—she was already half asleep.

"What?" My shout jolted her. She looked at me before explaining as if I were a little child.

"If they're not going to accept me for all that I am why should I care what they think? That's there loss. This way I can immediately tell who is worth my time." She placed her head back on my shoulder and there was silence in the night.

We stayed like that, curled up together in atop my dark, Star Wars comforter (what did you expect, Ironman?) for what seemed like an eternity before I spoke. She listened to the rhythm of my breathing as I enjoyed her warmth—not physical warmth, for she was still in her Jotun form, but rather the inner warmth that only a few people got to see and feel. The warmth of the truest form of Astrid.

"Astrid?" I asked quietly, not wanting to wake her if she was truly asleep. She looked so peaceful like that. Even though I was still in the phase where girls were kind of gross, I had never once thought of Astrid like that. To me she was and would always be just Astrid.

"Mmmm?" she muttered into my shoulder.

"Do you regret it—being what you are?" I asked. Even through the fog of sleep her answer was immediate; she didn't have to think about it.

"Never." She let a single beat of silence echo in the room before she turned the question around on me in classic Astrid fashion, "Do you regret it Howie, being what you are?"

My reply took just a couple heartbeats longer than hers did.

Did I regret being super smart? Sure there were down sides like always being the little kid in class and all the teachers looked at me like I could do no wrong (which wasn't really a good thing) but there were good things too. If I wasn't so smart than all the stuff my dad and I did together wouldn't work. I mean really, what not smart nine year old can help build an engine or circuit board?

And what about the whole 'my dad's a superhero' thing? Did I regret that? I regretted that it lead to things like today. Did I regret that I would always be known as Ironman's son? Yes, I regretted that all. But did I regret actually being my father's son?

"Never." I whispered resting my head against hers.

And that's how the adults found us after they had gotten the whole thing sorted out with those boys. Sleeping together, curled up in my bed. And yes they did get pictures.

* * *

><p>AN: The next chapter should actually be out some time next week at the latest. I have been asked if I have sequels planned to Karma and the answer is yes. There will be at least two more one-shots of about the same length that also take place while they're in college and a sprinkling of shorter one shots that take place either before or after college.<p>

The suit list is cannon; I stole it from Wikipedia. And yes all that stuff I was saying about Franklin is true (again at least according to wiki). He's the son of Sue and Reed Richards of the fantastic four. The May referred to is May 'Mayday' Parker, the daughter of Spider-man.

I have not read many comic books so I may be taking some liberties with the characters. Sorry. if it makes you feel better you can think of them as the movie versions.


	2. Prom

Prom

You know those days school kids look forward to from the moment they really know what they are? Well, those were the days I was dreading the most.

This may sound morbid, but something died in me that day a group of bullies beat the shit out of me just because I wouldn't let them into dad's lab to play with the spare Ironman suits. It wasn't that I didn't want to fit in anymore, it was more like I just realized that, as long as I was so much younger than those I studied with, It simply wasn't going to happen.

And so I stopped trying. I didn't talk to many people outside of class, unless it was for an assignment; I didn't get into clubs; and most importantly, I didn't go to social functions, at least, not most of the time.

I knew early on that I wasn't going to be able to get out of the actual graduation ceremony; that entire process was more for the parents anyway, and I owed them that much.

What I hadn't counted on was having to go to prom. I had figured that my parents, being the intelligent and mature individuals they are, would see the potential hazards of having me and Astrid (really, who else would I go with?) locked in a ballroom with a bunch of horny teenagers who made my life hell.

But no… it was a rite of passage.

And that's how I found myself dressed up in a little Armani suit trying to use the breathing techniques Bruce taught me, in an attempt not to give myself a anxiety induced heart attack (is that even possible?).

"Pepper, lay off the pictures. Can't you see the kid's miserable?" Thank you daddy. "It kind of sucks that he's too young to really enjoy the night." You prick.

"Uncle Tony!" Astrid laughed, "Unlike you, we actually know how to have a good time without doing inappropriate things or causing vast amounts of property damage."

"We do?" I asked and dad started cracking up, the dirty minded old bastard. I was talking about the property damage. Astrid wasn't exactly known for her restraint when it came to her own twisted form of humor. But then again, I was always right beside her, so did I didn't have much room to talk.

"Oaky, can we go now? I just want to get this over with as soon as possible," I said tugging at the collar of my tux.

"Not quite," Astrid answered, even though the question wasn't directed at her. "You're not dressed right."

She put her finger to her lips as she studied me. "There."

"What?" I asked, taking the fingers out of my collar. I couldn't keep the confusion out of my voice and looked down at my suit. She had changed the color of the vest form a pale gray into a vibrant sapphire blue. The same sapphire blue she had long ago claimed as her signature color.

"Now we match." Astrid said, motioning to her own choice of attire. Her dress was a little conservative for a senior prom, and yet it was a _little _mature for her age.

"Great, now I'm getting dressed by a girl." I muttered, not even trying to keep her from hearing.

Astrid used her thumb and middle finger to flick me right between the eyes using just a fraction of her strength (if she had used all of it, my brains would probably exploded out of my head like in an early 90's cartoon).

"Oww."

"A girl with a lot more fashion sense than you, so get used to it," she muttered before dragging me over to the door so mom could get a whole bunch of pictures.

I had wanted Astrid to just puff us over there—less fuss that way—but I was overruled. And so, we found ourselves in the back of a stretch limo (although I will never understand why dad felt it necessary to book the one with a fully stocked mini bar).

"Are you okay? You look like you're about to throw up," she said as we pulled up to the steps leading into the grand ballroom of the swankest hotel in the city.

I looked at Astrid, my face probably as green as Bruce on a bad day. She didn't get it. Of course not. I may have been getting thrown to a pack of hyenas but she was a lion; she had nothing to worry about. But I knew the truth.

Despite earning the right to be there, I didn't belong. I was just a child trying to sneak into his parents New Year Eve party. The nice girls would gush like I was a one of those horrible small dogs that had the misfortune of having owners that believed they needed little cloths and accessories to match whatever the human was wearing at the time. The mean girls and guys would try to make tonight hell for me.

I would have skipped prom completely had it not been for my mother. Even though she had never said it, I knew she wanted nothing more than to see me all dressed up in my little tux and pretending to be a big boy.

And that's all I would be doing: pretending.

"I don't belong here," I whispered mostly to myself.

"You don't? I thought it was for all seniors not just the ones who have managed to hit puberty."

"Real funny. Not." I spat, causing her to laugh.

There were days I wished I was more like her—able to just let everything run off my back like water but, for some unimaginable reason, that particular trait had yet to rub off on me despite the fact I had caught her sarcasm long ago.

It was easy for her to say. With the way her makeup was done, and probably a little bit of magic, she could pass for a freshman or sophomore, but I stood out in every way.

"I'm going to be stuck in a room full of people who have made my life hell, while they all try to outdo one another by having seizures on the dance floor. And chances are the chaperones are going to lock themselves in a janitor's closet to get the after party started early."

"Then why are we here?"

I sighed. How to explain it? Her family was so different from mine it would be hard for her to understand. It wasn't that they didn't have expectations when it came to her—it was more like they didn't have expectations of anything _normal. _

When Astrid got caught causing mischief her parents don't give her THE LOOK—and don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about—she gets something akin to pride. Me? I get the look so much from my mother that it's not funny. And most of the time it's not look everyone else gets. For me it's not like she's mad, it's like she's worried. I can see it in her eyes –the fear that something is fundamentally wrong with me; that their decision to allow me to skip so many grades has robed me of something important for my social skills.

"I see." She said. At times like this, I'm glad she can just read my mind; it makes things easier when I can't quite find the words for something. I know she sympathizes with me but I don't think she would ever really be able to empathize.

"Why don't you be a gentleman and go get us some punch before the older kids manage to add copious amounts of alcohol to the mixture," she suggested, giving me a way out of the corner of the dance floor I had lead us too.

The one good thing about being so small is that it made it quite easy to work my way to the front of the line. No one would say anything; all the girls thought I was cute in the same condescending way as puppies and kittens. All I had to do was bat my baby blues and earnestly explain to them that I was getting some for my date, and they wouldn't let their jerk-ass dates touch me.

Apparently you couldn't hang out with one of the world's master manipulators without picking up a thing or two.

By the time I got back, Astrid was surrounded by what had to be the entire football team trying to hit on her (am I the only one seeing a pattern here?). I was kind of embarrassed just listing to them and yet I stayed hidden behind one of the over decorated pillars that encircled the ballroom. Whatever Astrid was up to was bound to be more entertaining than the pop music flavor of the moment the school hired to play.

"Want to dance? I got some great moves," the quarterback asked, and I almost died laughing. He couldn't be talking about on the dance floor—he looked like an epileptic fish out of water—and he couldn't be talking about on the field, unless you counted slapping his teammates' asses as they walked past. Despite my age, I wasn't naive. I knew what he was really talking about, and from what I heard from the girls by the punch bowl, he really didn't have much room to brag.

"I don't think my family would like it if I went dancing with someone they didn't approve of." She rubbed her upper arms and looked around coyly. So she was playing the naive, innocent girl card. This would be interesting.

I was sure this show was for me; she was trying to make my hell a little more fun by mentally torturing my tormenters. And the best part was that they had no clue what was going on.

"I'll protect you, sugar." The QB was leaning against the wall and I was having a Greece flashback. No doubt he was a greecer in another life.

"Oh would you?" she asked in her best impression of the classic snow white voice. I about died laughing. That should have been their first clue that she was just playing with them, like a cat giving a rat just enough room to run around but no real hope for escape.

"Yeah baby, anything for you."

"Are you sure? My family can be really scary sometimes, and all together they have enough weapons to make the NRA jealous. Besides," she said, her voice dropping any pretense of innocence and gaining her trademark combination of cruelty and confidence, "I can't dance with you; I'm waiting for the right partner."

That was my cue to show myself.

"Hey Astrid, I got our drinks."

The football players stared at me in shock. I guess they didn't understand how I could get a girl like Astrid to come with me to prom. And that was why they could never be anything more to her than a cheap McDonalds toy; something to play with while there was nothing better to do and then throw away, without so much as a thought.

"You're here with _him?" _ The quarterback asked, incredulous, "Aren't you a little young to be robbing the cradle?"

"I am actually a lot closer to his age than yours, so I guess that would make** you **the one robbing the cradle," she smirked than covered her mouth with her hand and coyly batted her eyelashes as if embarrassed, "I mean _attempted _to."

Before anyone could say anything in retaliation, Astrid grabbed my arm and all but drug me to the other corner of the atrium where we would have a bit more privacy.

"How much do you like these people?" I could tell her patients were wearing thin. She had little tolerance for fools and would get dangerous if she didn't cause a little havoc soon.

"Not much. Just don't kill them," I didn't even attempt to sound weary, she would see through the ruse too easily—it would be nothing but a waste of time.

"Don't eat or drink anything else for the remainder of the night, unless I provide it," she warned.

"You got it." I didn't need to be told twice.

"Is that all you're going to do, Astrid? I'm disappointed in you," a voice said an inch from my ear, causing me to jump a mile in the air and thank God that no one could really see us from this angle.

"Go away Severus, you weren't invited." Astrid pouted at her brother.

Those two had a very odd love/hate kind of relationship. Half the time I was afraid they were going to kill each other, yet they seemed to be the only ones allowed to do any harm. And as crazy scary as it was when those two were at each other's throats, it was a hundred times worse when they managed to work together. I don't know if that was a sibling thing or just a them thing. Either way, no one was going to leave here unscathed.

Don't laugh, but it took me a moment to recognize Sev, even though I had practically been raised with him.

Sev had manipulated his appearance so that he looked at least five or six years older than he really was—more than old enough to fit in around here. His hair was shorter and lighter than his father's but other than that they could have been twins, especially since Asgardians (or Jotunn) age extremely slow once they have reached a certain point.

"But dear sister, you left this at home," he said, handing a sheet of computer paper to her. Astrid took it and quickly read the words.

"I did no such thing! You ought to be flogged in the street for even daring to insinuate that I would have to go to the internet for pranks."

You could always tell when they had been to Asgard recently; they talked annoyingly formal for weeks after.

Sev rolled his eyes. Both he and I knew she was lying; even Loki had admitted once or twice to being impressed with the jokes humans sometimes played on each other (have you seen the video of the guy who thought he won the lottery and then went on to dump his girlfriend and quit his job, only to find out that his friends had tvoed an earlier drawing? I rest my case).

"There is nothing wrong with requiring a little assistance on the occasion. Besides, I wanted to come and offer my assistance. Call it a peace offering for the incident in February. Not that it was my fault, of course. Had you not attempted to kill me, than I would not have been forced to pretend to be dead."

Astrid was fuming. The February incident had been a prank gone horribly wrong, in fact it went so wrong that Loki felt it necessary to bind both of their powers for a week. And let's just say that punishment is a word rarely heard in their household. Trust me it wasn't pretty.

"Which ones are you to attempt?" she said trying to hide her curiosity behind haughtiness.

"All of them."

Astrid's head snapped up in surprise and what could only be impression. The list had to be a page full of bulleted ideas and knowing Sev, they were going to be good.

Sev was like the Marilyn Munster of the family –the white sheep amongst the fleet of black. His character was usually a bit more open and welcoming than most of his family, and he preferred the blunt and harsh truth to lies. He didn't use magic as frivolously as his father and sister despite having the same amount of talent, and he didn't usually play practical jokes, but when he did they were impressively cruel (wow, is it just me or did that sound like a 10's beer commercial? Anyways… let's get back on track).

Whatever he was planning to placate his sister was bound to be epic.

"Tell me you at least have a camera?" I asked.

"Several. All at various locations and angles. We won't miss a thing, and many of the pieces are already in place. We just have to watch the pandemonium unfold." He held up three fingers, "The show should begin in three…two…one…"

On one he pointed to the door and as if on cue the door opened. In walked the closest thing the school had to my people—the nerds. These were the guys that passed notes in some odd form of a role playing game instead of paying attention in class and spent their lunch breaks sharing videogame cheat codes.

Just as they walked through the door the entire room went silent. They had a girl on each arm and—I'm not trying to be judgmental here, just honest—the girls were way out of their league, and I knew instantly where this was going to end: the other guys would ogle the prettier girls all night and get into monster trouble with their own dates.

The girls looked like every models wet dream; perfect skin, hair, and all that other stuff guys never realize they actually pay attention to.

They were either very high priced hookers or—

"There not real," Sev said. I hope I was just being obvious because Astrid was the only one allowed to read my mind, and I really didn't want to have to tell Sev off while he was in the middle of turning my prom night into the best night of my life. Wait… I didn't mean for that to be as dirty as it sounded.

"Gollum's? Impressive." Astrid muttered.

"Where did you get their looks?" I asked. No one looked like that outside of movies or pornos. Not that I had ever seen one. Only twelve, remember?

"I may have gotten the inspiration for out of a series of periodicals that, by Midgarian standards, I am much too young to legally have access to."

It took me a second to figure out what he was saying. When they did this whole formal talk shit it wasn't always obvious what they were getting at.

"What were you doing looking at nudie magazines?" I asked, slightly incredulous.

I hadn't meant to leave Sev open to attack like that, but with his sister in the room, there was no way she was going to miss an opportunity to make fun of him.

"He was probably researching things to if his _lady love _ever recuperates his feelings. He's wasting his time. She won't. "

"What are you talking about?" Sev asked, trying just a little too hard to keep his voice level and the light blush from spreading over his face.

"Oh please Severus, I don't even have to read your mind. You are not as talented at keeping your secrets as you would like to believe. The little crush you have on lady Sif has always been written all over your face. But do not fret brother dear, I doubt neither she nor father has realized your attraction." There was a subtle threat hidden beneath her words. She was telling him that she had the perfect black mail material against him.

"What?" I asked flabbergasted. That was so wrong on so many levels.

"Why do you think he has been working out with you?" Her face was twisted into a small, cruel grin as she asked. A part of me was a little hurt. I had always though he was just being a good friend, but I guess you can never get mad at them for having an alterior motive—it's just in their blood.

"Er… because he doesn't want me to get beat up anymore?" I guessed. It had always seemed the obvious answer.

"No… it's because Lady Sif likes big, strong men. And well, he's _lacking _in that particular department."

"But wasn't she one of your dad's friends growing up?" That was the creepiest part of all this, and what made it Twilight level wrong. "That's practically MILF territory without the M!"

"I do believe the correct term is Cougar," Astrid supplied enjoying Sev's squirming just a little too much.

"No," I corrected, "Cougar would be if SHE liked HIM. If it's the other way around I think their called cubs."

He had been a good about keeping his mouth shut—he knew that when his sister got ahold of a bone, it was best just to let her chew until it was done and over with. Reacting would just give her more meat.

"There is nothing wrong with a large age gap in a relationship. The age of my parents differs by over a millennium."

"Dude, I'm not making fun of you because of the age difference," I said through a sore face. Astrid was laughing as well—I think the fact that it was me doing the teasing made it all the funnier to her. "I'm making fun of you because she used to babysit you. She used to change your shitty dippers. Something is not right here."

"Well, at least she has already seen the goods and knows if they are worth her time if Severus ever gets up the courage to announce the truth," she quipped.

Astrid and I both almost died laughing again.

"Astrid?" Sev asked quietly and calmly as if he were merely asking about the weather.

"Yes, cub?" we cracked up again. He wasn't going to live this one down any time soon. Hell, knowing Astrid he wasn't going to live it down ever.

"You do realize that I have an eternity to find a suitable way to kill you, right? And that with the right planning, mother and father would never know."

"Yes, Severus, I know this." All the laughter drained out of Astrid's face. She was completely sober as she answered and there was an odd note to her voice that I couldn't completely read. I guess an eternity with Sev was a terrifying though even for her.

I could partially taste the tension in our little corner of the room, so I decided the best thing to do was change the subject. And quickly.

"So what were you saying about the prank?" I asked him. Both siblings could see right through me but neither of them said anything about it. I guess they welcomed the change of subject.

"Ah yes," he said and pointed over to the band geeks (not the nerds who brought the hookers—stay with me here people). One of them was holding up a pair of tinny red silk panties like it was some sort of trophy.

"He is currently regaling his friends with the account of his torrid tryst with the prom queen in the locker room just moments ago and how she presented him with that token to prove to him just how attractive she finds boys who can blow a tuba."

I looked Sev dead in the eye. "They're not really hers are they?" Did I really have to ask? Sev raised a single eyebrow. I guess not, but I didn't ask anymore. I probably didn't want to know the just what those golems were capable of.

After that, Cassidy became a lot more popular with the band boys.

Next, Sev snapped his fingers and a single condom appeared in front of each place setting on the many tables that dotted the outside of the dance floor. Although some found it hilarious, there was the echo of several guys getting smacked.

"This is epic," I said through gasping breath.

"This is not even half done." Oh shit.

Sev's finger moved to the next attraction with all the fluidity and dexterity of a conductor.

The band playing was one of the more popular mainstream bands so I really couldn't help but know the lyrics to their songs. It took me a second to realize why Sev had pointed to them next. Although the tone was the same, they weren't singing the version they played on the radio.

"Are they drugged?"

"They really should be careful when accepting gifts from fans. There are some mentally disturbed people in this world."

"Don't I know it." I muttered; I was standing next to two of the most disturbed of them right now.

Suddenly Cassidy's voice range out in a shrill scream. She was standing next to her boyfriend, Aaron, who just so happened to be the football team's quarter back (and the greecer want to be who tried to pick up Astrid—but that doesn't really matter).

"You gay motherfucker! I should have known!" she screamed, pushing him back towards the dance floor but I was sure dancing was the last thing on her mind right now.

I looked at Sev for an explanation.

"She has just received a text message from her boyfriend that was intended for the captain of the basketball team. It detailed just how good Aaron thought he looked in the lingerie Cassidy had accidentally left at his house. Needless to say she was not pleased. Poor dear."

This was another instance where I had to really think about what he was saying.

"The captain of the basketball team is a guy."

"Oh Howard, that doesn't seem to be much of a determent this day in age," Astrid managed to say between gasps of air. She was laughing so hard that tears were welling in her eyes, and a part of me was really beginning to wonder why I put up with them. I could go from being her back up to being her scapegoat so fast I had whiplash.

I rolled my eyes. "I guess not."

"Come," Astrid said, pulling on my arm, "the entire point of this little social gathering is to dance, is it not?"

"Errr… no, that's just what they tell the adults." I locked my knees and refused to move. It would be no use to explain the real reasons behind the hellish rite of passage known as prom. She wouldn't understand—or perhaps it would be more truthful to say she wouldn't care—about the girl's obsession with being able to outdo each other, and the guy's desperate attempts to get onto the horizontal dance floor with a significantly less clothed partner.

"Do you not know how to dance?" she asked her voice almost sweet and genuine. Almost. "I was under the impression that your mother taught you."

Actually it was my dad, but still that wasn't the issue.

"You can stand on my feet if you wish." Sev snickered at his sister's words, and I wanted to hit him. Astrid had more than a few inches on me—I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet and she was almost done with hers. I knew that no matter how good of a dancer I was (and I wasn't), if we tried to dance, she would turn my feet to mush with those death traps she called shoes.

She gave my arm a little tug.

"No, defiantly not. I refuse." I said literally stomping my foot. I knew that nothing she could say or do would get me onto the dance floor.

"Please?" she said giving a little pout.

And that was all she had to do to get me on the dance floor swaying in time with the music with my own baby amazon goddess.

I wouldn't admit it then, but she had me whipped (you would never guess—would you?). Or more likely she had me trained. Guess that's what happens when you and your best friend fall in—

Wait. Scratch that. I'm getting too far ahead of myself. Way too far.

You know how in movies there are always those balloons that fall gently to the floor like snowflakes during that one slow song, and everyone just seems to be able to sweep them out of there way as they gracefully glide across the dance floor? Well, let's just say something like that was just too good an opportunity for Astrid (or maybe it was Sev—I don't really know) to pass up.

If the balloons were booby trapped the normal way, than they would have fell a lot faster. But for that one brief second between when they were released and when they hit the ground it was just like in the movies.

The band stopped playing as the screams started, but we didn't stop dancing. We just stood there swaying to a phantom song as everyone scurried out of the hall trying to escape the plethora of pest Astrid had unleashed. But they didn't bother me. I knew Astrid well enough to know that the snakes weren't poisonous—or at least lethal.

"'Come on," she whispered in my ear, "This place isn't fun anymore."

In an instant we were back at my house with Sev not too far behind us.

My dad and Loki looked up from the chessboard. Dad didn't really seem surprised that we were back early and Astrid's dad—well, he just looked slightly expectant.

"Did you enjoy the social engagement?" Loki asked and I got the distinct impression that he already knew. He probably had a double there the entire time trying to make sure I didn't try to take advantage of his little ice princess (like I could even if I wanted to—Astrid can more than handle herself).

"Damn kid, you are kind of missing the point of prom if you're back this early," dad said as he took Loki's bishop.

"But Uncle Tony, we've already had our fun." The words were innocent enough but she put just enough inflection in her voice that screamed innuendo. Loki's face twitched but he didn't say anything despite, of perhaps because of, Sev cracking up. Apparently, sexual innuendo kind of lost it's fun for the god of mischief when it was about his daughter.

I don't know why I said it and, if Loki hadn't practically be my uncle (no incest jokes here guys—Astrid and I aren't actually related no matter what we call each other's parents) I probably would have been disintegrated on the spot for it, but I guess I had been hanging out with Astrid and Sev too long. They were a bit of a bad influence. Just a bit.

"Don't worry we got it all on camera. After all, everything is better with visuals." Dad started rolling and Sev looked like he was going to piss himself.

Loki just stared at me for a moment before whispering dangerously low, "Indeed it is."

Trying to break the tension I turned to Astrid, "So why did you tell me not to drink the punch?"

"Oh that. I put laxatives in it."

"Oh…" What else could I say?

"And covered the toilet seats in cellophane." Her tone was so conversational I really didn't know how to respond. To her the humiliation of dozens (no all of which were actually cruel to me) was just a game. She felt no pity and showed no remorse.

But she was my best friend and so I had to accept the bad (or morally ambiguous) along with the good. I knew that to accept her for everything that she was, meant I had to take whatever she did in stride.

"Naturally."


End file.
